Not Completely Defective

I’ve been told more than once that I’m heartless and lack sympathy. I’m not saying that I hear that a lot, and it has usually been said in moments of frustration by the other party. Frustration that was likely caused by me. Even so, It’s odd to hear this about yourself. I see myself as a caring person who’s pretty close to my own emotions. I always strive to be considerate to others, but I suppose there is a gigantic gap between polite and sympathetic.

When someone is going through something really tough, I know full well that I can’t make them feel any better, so apparently I act that way. I’m usually awkward and say the most bizarre things. It’s clear that I’ve never been through anywhere near what they are going through and we both know it, so I tend to throw in the towel.

THAT WAS UNTIL I LOST MY DAD

I had the best dad (no offense to the rest of the dads out there). He was the perfect model of a father who taught me all the best stuff: How to build things, how to treat people, how to work hard, how to love your family, how to live for others, and a million more lessons. I honestly can’t remember a time when he missed the mark. I’m sure it must have happened, but it was as if he were playing the part of the perfect dad in a movie, and he was holding character for 57 straight years.

He got prostate cancer several years ago, and the family was initially concerned. But from my perspective, the treatments seemed to work, and it seemed he’d be here forever. It took years, but the spread and the effects eventually caught up with the test result numbers. By the middle of last year I began to realize that the end was actually coming. I was okay with this - I knew that I still had plenty of time to spend with him. Go to some football games; watch a bunch of Columbos together; laugh a ton at our old jokes. Then, it took a bad turn, and I knew that it could be weeks away. Still, I felt totally ready for it. I knew that he’d had a good, long run. He wasn’t being robbed of life, was ready to go meet Jesus, and I was ready, too.

UNTIL HE WAS GONE

Suddenly, I felt an enormous loss. I couldn’t just get over it either. I could get through the day just fine, but when I wasn’t occupied I would find myself sitting on the sofa sobbing for long stretches. It surprised me just how good it felt - almost indulgent - to sit and remember him. All of this really got me thinking about how I treated others when they were going through a loss. It reinforced my belief that sympathetic words don’t actually help you feel better. But they sure told me who cared for me, and the hugs felt great (but then I’ve always been a hugger- you’ve been warned).

Mostly, I learned that I’m not completely defective. I do have a heart in there, after all. I’ve just been extremely fortunate to have avoided this type of loss until now. There will eventually be more coming my way in the very distant future, as I also happen to have the best mom (no offense to the rest of the moms out there). I’ve also got the best wife - who had better outlive me - and many others that I do not want to be without.

ONE LAST LESSON

As I mentioned, my dad taught me a million valuable lessons over the 57 years we had together. But he just found a way to teach me two more: 1- I’m not completely defective; 2-While sympathy doesn’t help, it doesn’t hurt either, and it’s more meaningful than I ever imagined.

Still, I don’t think those last couple of lessons were worth it. I’d prefer to be at a football game with him this afternoon.

Find more of my blog posts, here.